


is he...you know...

by blenanas



Category: Final Space (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, and i asked him what are we an he hit his chest and said 'we bros', it's them living together being gay., kinda? sorta?, this is that, u kno that tweet that likes 'weve been living together and have a kid togther
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22047283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blenanas/pseuds/blenanas
Summary: Question: How do you ask the guy you've been living with for months if he's gay without sounding like a jerk?Follow up question, not necessarily related to the last: What do you do if you think you have a crush on the guy you've been living with for the past few months?
Relationships: Avocato/Gary Goodspeed
Comments: 15
Kudos: 141





	is he...you know...

**Author's Note:**

> hi i wrote like 3 FS fics in the space of a week no this isnt the last of them yes i'm gay yes i have issues yes i exist.
> 
> i wanted to write something more light-hearted/humorous. it was like, also supposed to be short? but it's not. so. wig i guess. no beta once again! i dont have anyone 2 read my 6am fics for errors and im not forcing my friend to do that kjdhkjd also i think it's a modern au? like it's still in the FS type world just that everything hasnt gone to shit and everyone isnt dying and a whole planet isnt gone.
> 
> in short this is "dont ask me 'what are we?' after we've been hanging out every day for 3 months and going on dates and meeting the fam. we're friends." the fic. thanks for reading !

Avocato doesn't talk about himself all that much. Which Gary doesn't really have a problem with. Maybe Avocato isn't ready to share anything super personal with him just yet. And that's fine, because Avocato promised he'd tell Gary more about himself someday, and Avocato keeps his promises. So Gary’s not too worried about all that.

And besides, even if Avo tries to be secretive, there's a ton of stuff Gary’s learned about him just from living with him for a bit, so it's not like he doesn't know anything at all about his best friend. In fact, there's a bunch of stuff he knows about his bro that no one else would unless they lived with him. 

That feels pretty neat, he admits. Learning about someone through the process of living with them. It feels kinda intimate.

But lately there is one hot button issue regarding Avocato that he can _not_ figure out himself, and absolutely cannot ask him about. 

...is Avocato gay? Gary thinks he might be. Or, he could be bi, because sometimes people are bi. _He’s_ bisexual, and so is Quinn, so maybe Avocato is, too. It could be a three for three type thing.

It's probably embarrassing just how much he's been obsessing over the thought. Gary’s not even sure when he even started thinking about it this much. Like, if he goes over all the events that have taken place recently in the Goodspeed-Cato household, he can't exactly pinpoint which one of them might have been the catalyst for his newest obsession.

Maybe he started thinking about it after he realized that Avocato used the word 'baby' with him more often than with anyone else. Or maybe it was when Gary had asked Avocato if he wanted to go see a movie with him, and Avo had said 'sure, it could be a date' and Gary hadn't known how to respond or if he was even being serious, so he just laughed it off.

(...and then said date never happened.)

It _could_ have been when little Cato had asked if he could go out to some party or sleepover or some other teenagers-only event with Ash and Fox, and a very sleepy Avocato had replied, "ask your dad" in reference to Gary. Or maybe it could have been that time they'd been having some kind of discussion about whether being the little spoon or the big spoon was better, and Gary had asked Avocato which he preferred, and Avo had said, "let's find out." Or _maybe_ it was that time he thought Avo had called him honey, or maybe it was that time where...

Okay, so, maybe there are _a_ _lot_ of things that might've put the thought in his head, and he is just about losing his mind trying to figure out what any of it could _possibly_ mean.

...He could just ask. In fact, he probably should just ask. He’s pretty sure it wouldn't be the worst thing he's asked Avocato. Honestly, it's likely far from it. So it _shouldn't_ be hard, and he _shouldn't_ make a big deal out of it, and he _should_ just ask.

\--

He actually cannot just ask.

It is actually really hard to do, apparently.

How do you even do something like that? Even if he wants to ask, it's not like he can just--in the middle of a totally unrelated conversation--bring it up. To just interrupt their own conversation to say, 'hey, so I know we were just talking about something else, but let's put that on hold for a bit because I just _have_ to know whether you're into guys or not.'

What’s he supposed to say if Avocato asks why he wants to know? Gary doesn't even know why he wants to know.

He just... can't think of a good way to spring the question. He’s not even too excited to ask, because he's not even sure where he's going to take the conversation after Avocato answers. 

(If Avo says yes, what's he supposed to say after? What does he _want_ to say after? Okay, cool, thanks for telling me. Let's just go back to talking about how I used to make bugs marry each other as a kid.) 

So, Gary decides, the plan is to have the conversation be related to his question from the start. Gary is going to walk into the living room--where Avocato usually is at this time of day--and he's going to somehow bring up the fact that he, Gary Goodspeed, is bisexual, and then he's going to ask and Avo is going to answer and it's going to go super well.

Or that's what he tells himself anyhow. But he can't even enter the room. He’s just been standing by the entrance to the living room for the past five minutes, back to the wall, not even daring to peek inside just in case Avocato sees him, because if Avocato sees him then he absolutely cannot back out.

He probably didn't think this through enough.

What’s he even supposed to _say_ that sounds natural? _Hey, are you gay? I’m not, like, homophobic or anything. In fact, I’m bi, and just thought it would be cool if you were also one of the many letters in the acronym, though you are definitely not the L, and I already know that we’re both the T and that’s really cool but that's not what the conversation is about right now, because I’m specifically curious about sexuality, currently, and,_

"That is a really weird way to come out to someone."

Gary’s feet don't actually leave the ground, but the sudden voice makes him feel as though he must have jumped at least a few feet in the air, because _holy hell_ did that scare the _crap_ out of him.

The voice, fortunately, belongs to Quinn, who has just walked out of the living room. She’s giving him this look that seems to say, 'yeah, I know exactly what's going on in your head right now, not because you're really easy to read or anything, but because you more than likely said that entire thing out loud just now.'

Which is a common occurrence, and would usually be embarrassing, but this time it's not because holy crap is he glad that the person who heard it wasn't the person who was supposed to hear it.

"You are," he exhales what might be most relieved sigh he's ever done. "not Avocato."

"I am not." Quinn says, sounding incredibly amused. "Sorry, bud. It was just me the whole time."

Gary turns his head to the side and peeks into the room, just to check. It looks incredibly empty in there, save for Mooncake napping peacefully on one of the couch cushions.

"So. Was he just...not in there at all?"

"Nope. He’s not even in the house. He’s out with little Cato." Quinn says. She takes a few steps so that she's standing directly in front of him now, looking right at him. "I was just over here, minding my own business, trying to read a book, and heard someone out here talking to himself." 

Well, then, _crap_.

But, also, _thank_ _god_.

"So," she drags out the 'o' in so, sounding way too knowing. Gary is not a fan of how _knowing_ she sounds. "Avocato, huh?"

Gary tenses up at the mention of his best friend's name, which Quinn doesn't miss at all. In fact, Gary’s reaction seems to further pique her interest.

He’s got nothing to lose, right?

"I think he might be gay." Gary just up and admits, because he might as well just say it. "And I've been _dying_ to talk about this with someone else, okay? Can we talk about this?"

Quinn, for a second, just stares at him. Like his statement is something either really stupid or really obvious. He can't choose which one it is, but it's maybe both.

"I mean." She takes a step closer, placing her hand on the wall next to him so he's basically got no way to escape the conversation. "What is it that makes you absolutely sure that he's gay?"

Back against the wall, and nowhere to go, Gary feels incredibly nervous all of a sudden because he, admittedly, had not put that much thought into it. 

Or, rather, he's put _too_ much thought into it, and has only just now realized that none of his reasons are things he wants to say out loud, because then it'll end up being really embarrassing for him, specifically.

"I have a really good gaydar."

"You don't."

He really doesn't.

"I don't...I don't know? I can't explain my thought processes, okay!" Gary admits, throwing a hand up in his frustration. "Maybe it's the way he dresses? I...that's something, right?"

Quinn just smiles at him. She definitely knows something that he does not, and whatever it is that she knows is making this incredibly entertaining for her, from what Gary can tell.

"I think it's funny that's your proof, because if anything, it just proves that _you're_ gay."

That is...an incredibly fair point.

_Too_ fair a point, if he thinks on it. It's almost as if he likes Avocato, or something.

It must show on his face that he's close to having some kind of epiphany, because Quinn raises an eyebrow at him like she's egging him on--trying to lead him in the direction of what's possibly the correct answer.

"I _think_ he might be flirting with me, sometimes," Gary continues, because he really _does_ feel close to some sort of breakthrough. "but then again. I’m... _really_ bad at telling when people are actually flirting with me..."

Quinn doesn't say anything to that. She just keeps looking at him like there's something written all over his face and she is having a _ball_ reading it.

"Okay, so maybe I really don't actually know, and this is all just wishful thinking because I woke up one day and realized I have a thing for him really, really bad, and because I’ve got it so bad I can't just write off the maybe-platonic-maybe-not flirting we do as jokes anymore, because if I’m being very honest I want it to _not_ be jokes, so I’ve just started looking for any little sign that would imply that he's _not_ straight and they're _not_ jokes because then it feels like I actually have a chance with him?"

He pauses for a second, just to take a breath, and also to examine Quinn’s face for any sort of reaction. She looks completely unsurprised, really. Like someone has just told her the weather forecast said it might rain while it's pouring outside. 

"And also," Gary continues, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "And also I don't even know if he knows _I’m_ not straight, so I guess I’m sort of hoping that I can ask him once and for all if he's gay and maybe he'll say yes and I’ll go, 'wow, me too, and also I like you.' and we can go from there, instead of whatever the hell's happening now where he says something kind of flirty and I rack my brain trying to figure out if this means I have a chance or if this is a guys being bros thing."

Quinn seems to be satisfied by that admission, because she backs off, putting enough distance between them that Gary doesn't feel trapped anymore.

"It was never a--" she begins, but stops herself mid sentence and shakes her head. "Nevermind. You two are idiots."

Gary blinks once, but doesn't say anything to that. Because maybe he's said too much already. And maybe it's better he doesn't hear what she was going to say.

"It’s definitely all that," is what Quinn says instead, nodding sagely. She reaches a hand up and flicks some of his hair out of his face. "But also, shoot your shot. You have a better chance with him than you think."

Gary perks up at that. "Did he... tell you anything? Do you know something I don't?"

She shrugs. "Why don't you just talk to him?"

Quinn doesn't give Gary a chance to press the issue after that. She doesn't even wait for his response. Instead, she just punches him lightly on the shoulder, and then turns and leaves. 

He’s left alone, back to the wall, feeling as though he's just been thoroughly interrogated.

Running his hands through his hair, Gary lets out what might be the second most relieved sigh he's ever done, and slumps onto the floor. He feels like he's learned absolutely nothing, but also, a lot.

"That is a really, really good question." He mumbles to himself. "Why _don't_ I just talk to him?" 

\--

So, he tries to ask again.

A few days later, this time, just to shake off the leftover nervousness from the first (failed) attempt. And also to perfect what he wants to say. But _definitely_ not because he was trying to put off asking for as long as he could.

It’s not even as though there weren’t plenty of opportunities for him to ask. They literally _live_ together; he sees the dude everyday when he wakes up, throughout the day, when they playfully argue over who has to drive Little Cato to school, and who gets to watch what movie, and what to have for dinner, and so on and so forth. They’ve had at least several conversations since Gary’s initial epiphany where the topic could have totally been brought up completely naturally, and _yet_ …

And yet Gary keeps stalling. But, he reasons with himself, but this time, and this time for sure, he’s going to ask, and there will be nothing to stop him.

He decides to go where Avocato definitely will be this time--their bedroom. Because of course they share a bedroom. They only have so much space in their little apartment. 

And because no one else really ventures into their shared space, it’s a given that Avocato _must_ be in there, at some point, right? Especially if he’s taking a nap, or changing, or something. If there’s anywhere that it’s guaranteed Avocato will be, it’s in their room. That they share. With each other.

Which, his brain quickly interjects, is really funny, isn’t it? You two share a room, a room where there is only one bed and like, a really cheap but decent couch you two managed to talk Clarence into giving into you, and even though you two _claim_ the couch is for you to take turns sleeping on so that you don’t _have_ to sleep in the same bed at the same time, you do it _anyway_.

And you _still_ can't figure out if the dude’s gay? _Or_ if you like him?

Gary shakes the thought out of his head, though, and gingerly knocks on the door of their room before entering. That’s a thing they do, since Gary doesn't want to walk in on him changing or anything, since _that's_ not going to do his current “do I like him or have I just never had a friend before?” dilemma worse.

He knocks again, then as he walks in, says--loudly enough that Avocato’s sure to hear even if asleep, "So, Avo, my good buddy, my bro, my pal," a pause in which he wonders if this is really the way to ask, and then, "Weird question, but I wanted to ask if--"

There’s a reply before he manages to even finish the question, but not from the person he expects it to be from.

"Yeah, my dad's gay."

It’s Little Cato, slouched in the middle of their (question mark?) bed, his fingers firing away on a game console Gary’s pretty sure had been confiscated from him earlier this morning.

It is _not_ the response he was expecting to get, and definitely not from Little Cato of all people. For a second he feels completely stunned because he's not sure how to react first, or if he's even hearing the words correctly.

He decides to ignore the fact that his question has been answered before he's even had the chance to ask it--lord knows he can't process _that_ right now--and to focus instead on the fact that Little Cato is here, in their room, presumably having broken in to retrieve the game his father took from him.

"Why," Gary manages to force out, "are you the one who's here? Where's your dad?"

Little Cato waves a hand dismissively, not even looking up from the console in his hands. "He went out somewhere with Quinn. But I answered your question for you, so, uh, you're welcome." 

Oh, yeah. He had been purposely ignoring what Little Cato had said.

"How did you even know that was what I was going to ask?" Gary says, walking over and plopping himself down on the bed beside his son. “And is it even okay for you to just...tell me that?"

Lil Cato shrugs. He just looks at Gary with this kind of _everybody knows that_ type expression.

"I knew what you were going to ask, because I know you like my dad."

Oh. 

Had it been that obvious to everyone but him?

"Also, my dad being gay is not really a secret."

Oh. 

Had it really been _that_ obvious to everyone but him?

"My dad's been gay the whole time, dad 2." Little Cato says, turning his attention back to whatever game it is he’s playing. It looks to be some older fighting game. "So if you're gonna ask him anything, you should ask him out."

Ask him out.

Little Cato says it like it's so easy; like it's the most obvious course of action to take next, which, duh, it sort of is. But he says it like it’s one with no risks and no chances of rejection and no way for Gary to basically _completely_ embarrass himself, since that’s a thing Gary is apparently _really_ good at. He just says it so _confidently,_ like it’s already a confirmed fact in his head that his dad will say yes.

Then again, Gary doesn't really expect a fourteen year old to understand the nuances of these kinds of things, especially since little Cato has such an act-now-think-later approach to most things. Plus, he probably shouldn't be taking dating advice from someone who's short enough to pass the kids-under-12-eat-free requirements in most restaurants. 

"Ask him out."

"Yeah. I don't know what you two are even waiting for." Little Cato, says, looking up at him, once more. He raises an eyebrow, and says, like it’s a indisputable fact, "You’re practically married."

The _practically married_ feels like a blow to the chest in a weird way, because on one hand, oh, crap, they’ve been walking around looking like a married couple? And on the other hand, _oh my gosh .._ .they could _totally_ be a married couple. For a hot second Gary sits there feeling as though the wind has been knocked out of him. _Practically married._

Married. To Avocato. Living together. Raising a kid. Sharing a bed. Making him breakfast. _Him_ making Gary breakfast. Grocery shopping together. Going out, every now and again. Doing all that normal, everyday stuff together, like trying to convince Avocato to get up while he swears that he's not the one sitting on the remote.

That’s stuff that they're already doing. Just without the wedding. Or the marriage certificate. Or the rings. Or without the totally sweet privilege of being able to punch someone and then yell ‘that's my husband’ afterwards.

Practically married. Marriage sounds nice.

Little Cato nudges him in the side with an elbow, and Gary jumps, startled, and realizes that he's probably been quiet for way too long. Little Cato looks smug about something. Gary wonders if it's obvious what he's been thinking about.

"Ask him out," Gary forces himself to say. He makes a point not to outwardly acknowledge the comment about marriage. "That is, Spidercat, easier said than done. I don't even know if he--”

Without batting an eye, Little Cato says, “He is.”

Gary clears his throat. “Like I was _totally_ saying before you interrupted, I don't even know if he _likes_ me.”

“I mean, you two flirt a lot.” Little Cato points out, shrugging nonchalantly. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

For a second, the room is quiet except for the sounds of Little Cato’s video game and his frustrated grunts whenever something in game doesn’t go his way. The kid’s got a point, Gary thinks. Avocato does flirt with him a lot, and Gary--at least, he hopes that’s what he’s doing--often flirts back.

So it should, Gary thinks, it absolutely _should_ count for something, right? But honestly, his inability to pick up on real, _real_ flirting and just the joke-y, _I’m just saying this to you because we’re close enough to do so_ type flirting makes things very, very hard for him.

“ _But_ that could also be a guy thing, you know?”

“No I don’t?” Little Cato pauses his game, and then turns to give Gary this genuinely confused look, as though whatever Gary’s suggesting isn't even a concept to him. Then he turns back to his game, and says with a very bored, _please just get it over with already_ tone, “ _Seriously_ , you guys should just start dating so I can start bragging about having two dads.”

“Don't you already do that?”

He doesn't answer. Just grins at Gary, like just thinking about it is making him the happiest kid in the world. _Of course_ he already does that.

"If you're scared, you shouldn't be." Little Cato says, suddenly sounding a lot more serious than he had before this point. "You make my dad really happy, y'know? He's not gonna say it 'cause he's stubborn and an idiot, but I can tell."

"Hey, you can't call your dad an idiot." Gary says, to which Little Cato immediately opens his mouth to say something, so Gary hurriedly adds, "don't ask 'which one'. You can't call either of us an idiot."

Little Cato grins, wide, the tip of his tail against the bed smacking against the bed in a way reminiscent of a dog wagging its tail. For the second time in this conversation, he gives Gary an unbelievably smug expression.

Which is when it hits Gary that he is having this conversation with a fourteen year old kid, who is reading him like he’s the easiest book in the library, and he considers, for just a second, that maybe this is a whole new level of embarrassing for him.

"I call you both idiots all the time. Because you both are. Especially when it comes to each other, and especially now." He says, turning off his video game and carefully placing it back into what looks to be a heavily guarded drawer like it’s no big deal. Gary briefly wonders how in the hell he got the thing open, and if Avocato knows that he knows how to open it. "You should totally ask him out."

He then hops up off the bed, leaving Gary sitting there alone. He turns to look at his father one last time, and sticks his tongue out in a playful way as he walks towards the door.

"Like, you two are gross, you know that, right?" He teases, right before he just about runs off, "you stare at each other so much that it's weird neither of you notice. Just get a room."

\--

Third time's the charm, right?

It definitely cannot go wrong this time, Gary’s absolutely sure. Even though there's more on his plate this time, since he's going to try--try!--to also ask him out.

Gary doesn't even know why he's needlessly complicating things by insisting on asking whether he's into dudes. He could take little Cato’s advice, and just go straight to asking him out. But Gary wants to be sure first; doesn't want to be that guy who asks his best friend out just because they’re both gay, and end up making things awkward for them both. Which is a stupid thing to be afraid of in this situation, since--if what little Cato said is true--Avocato is _probably_ into him. Still, he wants to be absolutely sure. He needs to hear it from Avocato’s own mouth, and not from his fourteen year old son.

This time there’s no mix-ups to be had. There’s no accidentally saying the right things to the wrong person, and no son to smugly point out that Gary’s crush is embarrassingly obvious.

There’s just Avocato, out in the small plot of land behind their home that they _try_ to call a backyard, tending to the garden that he seems to be the only one capable of tending to properly.

(Which isn’t to say no one else helps out, it just seems like Avocato is the only one who’s taken a real liking to the whole planting thing, and the plants like him back. Gary does his part, too. Waters, harvests things if anything grows. Picks up the bugs that show up sometimes.)

But, that’s all besides the point. He's stalling again.

This time there’s no interruptions. No distractions. And hopefully he doesn't have the wrong person again.

Taking a deep breath, Gary opens the backdoor, and walks out, and hopes to god this goes the way he wants it to.

Avocato doesn't turn to acknowledge his presence, or anything. But Gary can tell he knows that he’s there, because his ear wiggles. It’s kind of cute.

Gary kneels down beside him, ignoring that this is just going to get the knees of his jeans dirty, and Avo just wordlessly hands him a watering can. Gary takes it, and just sort of cradles it in his arms without really thinking about it. Which makes Avocato smile at him, just a little. 

He decides that's his sign that this'll go well.

“So,” Gary says after a full minute of silence becomes too much for him. 

Avocato peels off a muddy glove, and turns to look at him. “So.”

This should be easy, he thinks. He knows what he wants to say by now, so he _should_ be able to get the words out flawlessly. Smoothly. Like someone who is great at talking would. 

“I’m bisexual,” is what he ends up saying. He blurts out the words too fast and too jumbled. He ends up sounding very, very nervous.

Very unlike someone who is great at talking.

Avocato blinks. And then the tip of his tail twitches. And then he blinks again.

“Oh,” he says. But he doesn't say anything else.

That doesn't leave Gary feeling very confident, because ‘oh’ is not a lot to go on. Does he mean ‘oh, great, me too!’ or ‘oh. gross’. There are a lot of oh’s.

But then Avocato speaks again. 

“I’m gay.” He says, nonchalantly peeling off his other glove. He bundles the gloves together, and places them aside. “Since we're sharing.”

And suddenly, Gary doesn't know what to say next. His question has been answered. Somewhere in his head, Little Cato’s voice reminds him that his question had already _been_ answered.

So this is probably the part where he confesses, right? Where he musters up his courage and assumes that any and all flirting that had happened between them before now _wasn't_ a joke, and Avo _is_ interested, and he asks him out.

Nervously, he drums his fingers against the watering can in his arms. The noise is a lot louder than he expects it to be, thanks to his metal hand. The loudness of it is a little jarring. Avocato’s ear twitches again, which makes Gary feel a little guilty. He’s always been a little sensitive to loud sounds.

“So, I…” Gary begins, but it doesn't feel like the right way to start. What's a good way to tell someone you like them? 

He notices that Avocato is tapping his hands against his thigh. Maybe Avo is nervous, too. Maybe he should just cut to the chase. 

“Do you wanna...maybe, I don't know...go out with me sometime?” 

Avocato is quiet for maybe a few seconds. Twenty five of them, at most. But it feels, to Gary, like probably an hour. And because of that, it's probably one of the most nerve-racking twenty five seconds of his life.

“Go out.” Avo says after the twenty five seconds that Gary swears he didn't count. It's accompanied with him flicking his tail. Is tail flicking good? 

Maybe he was too casual. Maybe by saying it ‘go out sometime’, he's somehow sent the wrong message. Maybe it’s somehow April first today, and Avocato thinks he’s playing some kind of weird joke on him. Maybe ‘go out’ is a weird way of telling someone you hate them on where Avocato's from.

Maybe he’s overthinking.

"Okay!” Gary announces, clapping his hands together suddenly. His voice comes out way too loud, and Avocato startles. He feels a little bad about that. “That’s...enough of that. Let’s go back to talking about how I made bugs marry each other when I was a kid."

"We weren't--" Avocato starts to say, but he cuts himself off, either appreciating the conversation change, or realizing it's not worth the effort to comment on. Either works for Gary. "Wait, you made bugs marry each other?"

Gary drums his fingers against the watering can again. This time the loudness of the metal on metal feels comforting instead of jarring, somehow. Avocato glares at him, but Gary can tell that he’s not all too mad.

Maybe he still can do this.

"It probably wasn't legally binding." Gary admits, like he's only just now realized this. "But it might have started some really good relationships, because those were the happiest beetles I've ever seen in my life."

Avocato smiles at that. It's not the big goofy smile Gary had hoped to get out of him, but it's nice making him smile either way.

"Did you know wasps are homophobes? I’m not trying to make a joke here, it's just that one time I tried to get these wasps gay-married to each other--at least I think it was a gay marriage--and one of them stung me, and flew off. I think that might have been when my job as an ordained bug minister ended."

Gary turns to look at him, smiling innocently. Avocato glares at him once more, trying to look serious. But there's a hint of amusement on his face, Gary can tell. He’s good at telling serious Avocato from _serious_ Avocato. It’s one of those learning-about-someone-through-living-with-them perks he’d mentioned earlier.

"Gary, you're stalling."

"Am I? Maybe I’m just trying to say that," he pauses, draws the watering can in his arms closer as though for moral support, and hopes to god this works. "what if we... like those bugs I forced to get married...tried being a couple?"

Avocato doesn't say anything. He looks away from Gary, which Gary probably should take as sign to maybe shut up, but honestly, it just makes him want to keep talking.

"I’m not...I’m not saying we get married or anything? Not if you don't want to, and definitely not right _now_ ," he continues, not quite sure what to say next but still talking in hopes he gets somewhere, "but do you. Wanna try being boyfriends for a bit, and, like, I don't know? See where it goes from there?"

There is still no response, but Gary is suddenly aware of how close he is to Avocato, currently. Closer than they were when he first came out here. Close enough that their knees are touching. Maybe someone inched a bit closer. Or maybe he's losing it.

He’s also suddenly aware of the fact that the knees of his jeans are getting dirty from kneeling, and that his legs are tired _and_ he's still holding that god damn watering can Avocato handed him despite the fact that he hasn't watered a single plant, and that if this goes badly he's going to really hate this garden from this point on. But that's all unrelated.

Gary keeps talking. 

"For the record, most of the bug couples I had a hand in setting up have had very happy and fulfilling relationships, except for the wasps, but they don't count because they were homophobes. So. I'm hoping it'll work out like that. Not the wasps, to be clear. Like everybody else, because I really like you, and I want things to work out well for us, and--"

"Gary. Shut up."

Gary shuts up.

"It's." Avocato says, a huge, relieved looking smile breaking out on his face. "About damn time."

That’s the big goofy smile Gary’s been waiting for. He's so focused on the fact that he's finally gotten Avocato to break out into a grin that it takes a few seconds for it to register that _hey_ , Avocato has just accepted his proposal.

...Though, “proposal” is probably not what he wants to call it right now.

“...about damn time?”

Avocato pries the watering can out of Gary’s arms, sets it aside, and then takes one of Gary’s hands into his.

“Yeah.” He laces their fingers together. Which is, in Gary’s opinion, a surprisingly bold move to make after just being confessed to, and it feels all the way too intimate, even though it’s just holding hands, and they've done that countless times before. “About time you made a move.”

“Why didn't _you_ make a move?”

Avocato's face falls.

“You say that like I haven't.” Avocato says, sounding annoyed. “I don't know how much more obvious I could make it, man.”

Everything makes sense, all of a sudden. Or, maybe it had made sense the whole time and Gary had just been too dense to realize that the answer to his question was kind of just sitting there.

Ah. It’s no wonder Quinn had been having so much fun with him, that time. He’s dense. He is really, really dense.

...and Little Cato. Maybe fourteen year olds have points sometimes.

“I didn’t realize you were making a move on me at all.” Gary admits, laughing nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Like, I didn't even know you weren't straight. I thought we were like… you know, guys. Being dudes, and all that.”

“It was never guys being dudes.” Avocato deadpans. “Dude, we share a bed. We’ve held hands before. I straight up invited you to cuddle with me. We nearly made out, once. Do you think I just do that with all my friends?”

Oh.

He’d forgotten about the ‘almost made out’ incident.

...that probably would’ve made things easier to figure out. Or harder. Who knows.

“I thought, like, you know. I don't know…’cause we were so close, or something? I didn't know you were gay! Friends do stuff like that sometimes.” Gary pauses, blinks a few times to try and clear his thoughts. “Wait, but I asked you out _just_ now. I made a move and you just kinda blinked at me.”

Avocato visibly tenses up, and looks away embarrassed, his ears flattened against his head. “I thought you were fucking with me.”

“In what way did that come across as me messing with you?”

“Because every other time I tried to make a move on you it felt like you were brushing me off, man. Like you were uncomfortable. So I pretty much already decided you weren't interested.”

That makes sense, Gary thinks. There had been a lot of times where Avocato had invited him out, or gotten a little too close, or said something that sounded a little too … risqué to just be playful flirting. All of which Gary had responded to by either quickly changing the subject or laughing nervously for too long, because he wasn’t sure if Avocato was being serious or he was just hearing what he wanted to hear.

Which meant that he had probably been coming off as the straight one the whole time, and Avocato should’ve been the one having a whole tinfoil hat moment trying to figure out if _he_ isn’t straight. 

“But if _I’m_ making the move this time, then obviously it means I’m not messing with you, right?” Gary shoots back, getting a little defensive. He ends up speaking a little louder than he means to, and quickly lowers his voice. “I mean, if I ask you out immediately after coming out, surely that means something, right?”

Now it’s Avocato’s turn to do some thinking, Gary assumes, because he immediately goes quiet. With his free hand, he runs a hand over his face and groans, loud.

“God. This is embarrassing. I don't know. I never even knew you weren't straight, man. When you asked me out just now I thought maybe you finally realized how bad I had it for you, and you were just like, hell, let’s see how far I can take this. Not because you were actually interested.” He sighs deeply, and starts drumming his free hand against his thighs again. “But because you wanted something from me and that was the way you were gonna get it.”

That sounds a bit concerning, Gary notes. There’s definitely something there he should probably bring up later, in a different conversation.

Avocato keeps talking.

“And y’know, just ‘cause we’re both gay, doesn’t mean we would automatically have feelings for each other. So I just decided to take it as you meaning it in a friend way, instead.” He says, sighing one last time. He then turns to Gary with a kind of shit-eating grin, and says, his tone lighter, more playful, “You know, they same way you assumed all the times I asked _you_ out wasn’t something romantic?”

Gary's face goes incredibly red at that. That feels like a low blow. But it's one Gary deserves, since, thinking back on it now, Avocato _had_ been very, very, _very_ obvious.

Obvious enough their son picked up on it. So, yeah, he deserved that one.

“Oh. We're idiots, huh?”

Avocato sighs his usual ‘Gary, you're an idiot’ sigh, but this time it seems to be directed at both of them. The rare ‘god, we’re both idiots’ sigh. Little Cato definitely had a point, before, when he had said that both his dads were idiots when it came to each other.

A peaceful silence befalls them, and a butterfly flies by, which Gary decides to take a congratulations from the universe, or something. Avocato turns to give Gary a shy smile, and then squeezes Gary’s hand a few times. Rhythmically; like he's counting something down. It feels nice. Kind of calming.

“I love you, idiot.” he says after a while. “There, I said it.”

And just like that, boyfriends. Or at least, Gary thinks this means boyfriends. He doesn't really want to ask, because he doesn't want to ruin to moment, but it very likely means boyfriends. Even though boyfriends sounds kind of too young for them. But whatever. Boyfriends.

At least until they make like those beetles Gary made marry each other and get married themselves.

“Say you like me nicer.”

Avocato glares at him--the non-serious kind that Gary can always pick up on. But then his expression softens, and then he’s smiling. He looks bashful, kind of. Like if he were easier to tell, he'd definitely be blushing, right now.

“My knees are tired.” Is what he says instead. He drops Gary’s hand and eases himself up from the ground, brushing the dirt from his knees of his sweatpants as he does. “Let’s go back in.”

Just for a few seconds longer, Gary stays seated on the dirt ground, looking up at Avocato, wondering why the hell it took him this long to realize that _hey, I like this stupid guy._

Avocato looks down at him, reaches a hand towards him as an offer to help pull him up so he can stand, and says, a half smile on his lips, “You coming or not? I gotta go tell Little Cato that we’re finally officially his _dad_ -dads.”

Unable to stop the biggest, goofiest grin from breaking out on his face, Gary all but shouts, “yeah!” as he takes hold of his boyfriend’s--husband’s? partner’s? Fiance’s?--hand.

Something about how long it took them feels a little embarrassing, a little funny, but Gary decides it doesn’t matter. They’re officially a thing now. That's what matters. It was about time, anyway.

  
(And later when they tell Little Cato, that they’re now _official_ -official, all he does is call them gross. But it’s hard to take his 'disgust' seriously when it’s said with what’s probably the most elated expression Gary’s ever seen on another person's face.)

**Author's Note:**

> thnk u for reading! sorry if there r pacing issues or if anyone's ooc, or it's disjointed. i write in chunks and always at like 5am and actions are pretty hard for me, for forgive me for any of those mistakes..  
> i definitely think gary n avo r the type to be pretty much dating and not know that theyre dating. the ole "hes my boyfriend" " but does he know that though?" deal. like idk thats just the vibes. the energies.  
> anyways thanks again 4 reading!


End file.
